It's hard to think that my middle nugget is almost four. Three is a hard age. This kid has a great story. He was born in a hallway because he was too impatient to wait another six weeks or another six feet. And that is how he is going through life. Full speed all the time. He is all boy. Climbing, loud, dirty. Full of love and snuggles and farts. His hand has lost the baby dimples and I am so sad. He is bright, funny and caring. Every day he makes me laugh and lose my patience. And just when I'm about to cry in frustration, he comes and gives me a hug, tells me I'm pretty and walks away. Then pushes his little brother on the way. "I don't has!" is his (loud) answer to all questions, comments, requests. He is very much three. But I keep seeing a peek at what four is going to be and I am so proud. He works so hard in his special preschool class. He has made some amazing friends. We have a school family that we adore. So as we approach four, much too quickly, and loudly, I hope that he never stops with the random hugs, or holding my hand. And maybe, we can slow down just a bit?